


Inconvenient

by givebackmylifecas



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: Five times the gang catch Andrés and Martín making out in inconvenient places and one time they catch someone else.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 27
Kudos: 256





	Inconvenient

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself, this is ridiculous. Set in a nebulous future after season 4 where no one is dead and they all live in a house on a tropical island together

**1\. Tokyo: The Bathroom**

You would have thought in a place as big as the house Sergio had bought for them, there’d be more than a handful of bathrooms. Tokyo can hear the shower running, and crosses her legs as she bangs on the door again.

“Palermo!” she yells. “You’ve been in there for thirty-five minutes! Hurry the fuck up or I’m going to pee myself!”

There’s no answer and Tokyo wishes the Professor hadn’t confiscated all the guns after the heist.

“For fuck’s sake, you fucking asshole! Get out of the shower now, or I’m coming in!” she yells, kicking the door this time to make it clear to him that she can and will force the door open.

The shower shuts off abruptly and she sighs, relieved that she won’t have to see him naked after all – definitely not something she’s interested in. There’s some rustling in the bathroom and then the sound of the door unlocking.

“Palermo, you are a fucking dick!” she says, except it’s not Palermo who walks out, it’s Berlin. Hair damp, his long body wrapped in a ridiculously ostentatious silk robe. He raises an eyebrow at her, somehow making her feel five years old.

“Oh,” Tokyo says, surprised. “Sorry, I thought Palermo was in there.”

Berlin smiles in that creepy way that gives Tokyo the shivers. “He is,” he says and next thing she knows, Palermo is coming out of the bathroom, just a towel wrapped around his waist.

She gapes and Palermo frowns at her. “I thought you needed the toilet?” he asks and she growls, pushing past them both and into the steamy bathroom.

She slams the door behind her, rushing to the toilet. Her relief at being able to, well, relieve herself, is quickly overpowered by the thought of Berlin and Palermo in the shower together.

She shudders as she washes her hands and vows to use the bathroom on the other side of the house even if it’s right after Bogota made bean stew again.

* * *

**2\. Bogota: The kitchen**

Bogota had seen a lot in his years being a friend to both Andrés and Martín. He’d seen two of Andrés’ weddings, he’d seen Martín’s benders after said weddings which always included three straight days of spewing, crying, and once… peeing. But this, this is much worse.

All he wanted was some fucking coffee, because Nairobi woke him at ass-crack o’clock - something about conceiving in the morning. So if he couldn’t sleep in, he at least wanted some caffeine.

Except he couldn’t even get that because when he got to the kitchen, Martín was sat on the counter in front of the coffee machine, legs wound around Andrés’ waist, the two of them kissing like there's no tomorrow.

Bogota sighs, but decides to brave it for the caffeine. He walks into the kitchen, footsteps deliberately loud, but is consummately ignored. In fact, Andrés presses closer, hand tightening in Martín’s hair.

Bogota clears his throat, once, twice, three times and still neither of them notice.

“Hey!” he eventually says – maybe yells would be more accurate. Martín jumps so hard he hits his head off the cupboard behind him.

“Ow!” he exclaims, turning to scowl at Bogota.

Andrés does too, fixing him with a glare that Bogota knows would have several of the younger members of the gang running and hiding. “What,” he asks quietly. “Could you possibly need?”

“Coffee,” Bogota says, unimpressed with Andrés’ intimidation attempt. “Could you two move?”

Andrés sighs, but instead of separating, he just presses closer to Martín and bodily picks him up off the counter. For his part, Martín flushes, but acts as if this is a regular occurrence, his legs tightening around Andrés’ waist.

Andrés carries Martín across the room to the table and, pointedly ignoring Bogota, goes back to kissing him.

Bogota sighs, but is glad to be able to get at his coffee. He switches on the machine and tries to ignore the increasingly desperate sounding moans coming from the corner.

Waiting for the coffee to percolate might be the longest three minutes of his life. The second the coffee is done he pours some in a cup and speeds out of the kitchen, forgoing the milk and sugar he prefers in favour of escaping.

* * *

**3\. Nairobi: The garden**

Nairobi liked Cincinnati, liked how happy he made Stockholm and Denver, how he cheered up everyone around him. He reminded her of Axel sometimes, but she tried not to dwell on it, and instead throw herself into being a good aunt to Cincinnati.

Like now, he wanted everyone to play football with him, so Nairobi was going to make sure everyone played football with him. She’d already rounded almost everyone up, they were just trying to decide where to make the goals.

Denver suggested the trees at the far end of the beach would make a good goal and Nairobi went over with some flowerpots to mark each corner.

Except that right in the middle of the goal area are Berlin and Palermo. Berlin is lying on a sun-lounger with Palermo stretched out on top of him. Ordinarily, if it were anyone else, Nairobi would find it quite sweet. But it’s Berlin and Palermo, both of whom are assholes and the amount of times she’s walked in on them already is ridiculous.

Especially since right now, they’re making out in the middle of their beach and she’s about ninety percent sure that Berlin has his hands down the front of Palermo’s shorts, which is really taking it too far.

“Oi!” she shouts. “Do I need to spray you two with a hose? There are children here!”

They both freeze and Palermo turns to look at her, his hair a mess, a satisfied look in his eyes. “Oh, Nairobi. Did you want something?”

She sighs, throwing her hands up in the air. “Cincinnati wants to play football and you’re in the middle of our goal. Get a fucking room, if you’re going to do that.”

Palermo nods and opens his mouth as if to speak, but instead just lets out a high-pitched whine. Underneath him, Berlin grins and Nairobi so doesn’t want to know what just happened.

“Pull yourselves together and come play with us. And Berlin? Wash your fucking hands before you join.”

She turns and starts trudging back to Denver to tell him they might need to wait a minute.

Behind her, she hears a smack and Palermo yelling: “You fucking asshole, Andrés.”

She sighs. She really, really doesn’t want to know.

* * *

**4\. Rio: The stairs**

Rio would be lying if he said he wasn’t still a little scared of Berlin. The man was crazy and he had tried to execute him after all. And Palermo was just as bad. Always flirting with everything that moved and spouting weird shit about women. Rio knew Tokyo didn’t like them either, but at the end of the day they had both helped get him back when the police captured him and he supposed they were family now. Berlin and Palermo were definitely the creepy uncles.

But none of that was very helpful when Rio was piss-drunk from Tokyo’s shitty vodka and just wanted to go to bed and the aforementioned creepy uncles were making out in the middle of the stairs. Palermo was leaned up against the wall, with Berlin’s body pressed against his and there was no way Rio could get by without asking them to move.

Berlin’s mouth moves to Palermo’s neck, making him moan and Rio briefly wonders if Berlin is a good kisser, the thought making him flush with embarrassment.

“An-Andrés,” Palermo moans again. “We should go to bed.”

Yes, Rio thinks, please go to bed.

Berlin laughs and Rio can see the flash of his teeth in the dim hallway as he smiles. He doesn’t answer beyond that though, continuing to lavish Palermo’s neck and collarbone with kisses.

“Bed!” Palermo tries again, pushing Berlin’s face away.

Berlin grins again. “What do I gain from moving though? I can take you apart just as well here,” he purrs, his hands moving around to grab Palermo’s ass.

“For one thing,” Palermo gasps. “I don’t want to fall down the stairs when I come. And for another, Rio is standing right there.”

Rio freezes, willing himself invisible as Berlin turns to look at him.

“I um, just wanted to get past,” he stutters and Palermo grins over Berlin’s shoulder.

“There’s no shame in looking,” Palermo says, his voice just shy of lascivious. “But I have to warn you that Berlin doesn’t share.”

“I – what? No!” Rio squeaks and Berlin laughs, finally pulling away from Palermo.

“Don’t tease the boy, mi amor. Come on, let’s go to bed,” he says, grabbing Palermo’s hand and pulling him up the stairs.

They disappear quickly and when Rio eventually stumbles up the stairs and towards his own bedroom, he resolutely doesn’t listen to the extremely loud noises he can hear emanating from Berlin and Palermo’s room.

* * *

**5\. The Professor: Everywhere**

Sergio is sick and tired of it. It feels like everywhere he goes, he finds his brother and Martín in a variety of compromising positions.

In the garden when he and Raquel are going for a moonlit stroll.

In the living room when he’s looking for the book he left behind.

In the kitchen when he’s trying to make lunch.

In the boathouse when he needs to go to the mainland for supplies.

In the ocean when he wants to go for a swim.

Even, for inexplicable reasons, in one of the storage cupboards when he was looking for a mop.

When he complains about it to Raquel she just laughs and suggests he stop wearing his glasses so he doesn’t have to see it.

* * *

**+1 Andrés and Martín: The living room**

The problem with island life was that it got a little samey after a while. Which is probably why they had all jumped at the opportunity to go to a festival at the mainland – Martín didn’t know what it was celebrating, but the drink was cheap and Andrés looked unbelievable under the coloured lights.

Everyone looked like they were having the time of their lives – except Sergio of course who had disappeared early with Raquel, Cincinnati and Paula.

Eventually though, even Martín had had enough. He was drunk and pleasantly sleepy and he leaned against Andrés as they made their way to one of the boats that functioned as taxis.

He would have been content to go to sleep the minute they were home but the whole ride across, Andrés’ hand keeps moving higher and higher up his leg.

Martín giggles and pushes his hand away. “Stop it, I’m not doing anything tonight, I’m too drunk.”

Andrés kisses his neck, just beneath his ear. “Really?” he purrs. “So if I suggested we go get that bottle of tequila from the living room and see just how good you are at body shots…”

Martín shivers. “Well, maybe I could be persuaded.”

Andrés grins and the minute they’ve paid the driver and are on dry land, Martín starts tugging him up the pathway to the house.

“I bet Sergio and the kids are already asleep,” Martín says. “How you’re related to such a bore, I’ll never understand.”

“Well, imagine if both of us were this fun,” Andrés says.

Martín laughs. “I don’t think I’d survive it.”

Andrés squeezes his hand as they enter the house. “Come on, let’s be quick, I think Denver and Stockholm were going to come back soon too to check on Cincinnati.”

“Let’s hope they don’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to get it up if I have to hear Denver laugh again tonight.”

Martín lets himself be led through the house and the two of them are still making fun of Denver’s stupid laugh when they spill into the empty living room.

Except it isn’t empty and Martín wants to gouge his eyes out when he sees Raquel, completely nude, sitting on top of Sergio who is also naked, in the middle of the expensive rug Andrés had purchased a couple of months ago.

“Oh my god,” Martín yells, turning away as Sergio shrieks and Raquel reaches for a blanket to cover herself with.

“Hermanito, really?” Andrés exclaims. “On my rug?”

“Why are you back already?” Sergio yells as Raquel tries to preserve both of their modesties with the blanket.

“My eyes,” Martín yells, desperately wishing for brain bleach. “I saw breasts, Andrés. Breasts!”

Andrés pulls him close so that he can bury his face in his chest. “It’s okay, mi amor, it’s okay. I’m sure Sergio and Raquel will think twice before having sex where anyone can see them.”

“What?” Sergio sputters. “What about the two of you? I’ve walked in on you all over the house!”

“Not having sex!” Martín yells into Andrés’ chest at the same time as he says: “When we do it, it’s art!”

“Oh my god, just get out!” Raquel finally shouts.

Martín keeps his eyes firmly closed as Andrés drags him out of the room.

They make it upstairs and Martín collapses onto his bed with a groan. “That was horrifying. Possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Andrés stretches out next to him. “My poor ingeniero, will you ever recover?”

“Probably not,” Martín says, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. “I may never want to have sex again after seeing that.”

“Is that so?” Andrés asks, one hand sliding over Martín’s belly and determinedly travelling lower.

“On second thought,” Martín gasps. “Maybe I’ll be able to heal after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it, i have no one to blame for this but I'd like to thank Klembek for some of the make-out ideas and talking to me about Martín's gay fear
> 
> Feel free to comment/ yell at me on my tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) about this


End file.
